Hubby and I both used to teach at the same primary school, before he was hubby. All of the staff knew that we were in a relationship, but the children, as a whole, didn’t and we behaved professionally at work at all times. However, by this time we had been together for a few years and had been spotted out and about ‘in real life’ by some families, so I think it was fairly common knowledge among the parents that we were at least ‘seeing’ each other.
At one time, we had a visiting teacher into school from an outside organisation. She visited weekly to work with a group of year six children for around ten weeks each year and so became a bit of a fixture in the staff room and joined in our staff room conversations. I’ll refer to her as Mrs X.
Now, I can only assume that the last few weeks that she visited I must have had some form of ‘gluten baby’ stomach going on…
At the end of the ten weeks, there was a celebration evening hosted by Mrs X and all of the parents and teachers would attend. When we arrived, it was very busy and Mrs X greeted us as we walked in past her and said, “Oh, thank you for coming! I think there are a few seats left if you can find one, but go on, use your *you know* to try and get one!” (Whilst motioning to her stomach)
Now, we didn’t have a chance to say anything to Mrs X at this point to clarify her comments as she was very busy and there were lots of people walking in, but naturally, I was freaking out (unfortunately, relaxed is never a word anyone would use to describe me!). Mostly on two counts:
***I’d just like to point out that I have absolutely no prejudice against unmarried or single parents.***
Unfortunately, Mrs X signalled my ‘bump’ several times during the evening. It was not until the very end, after most people had left, that we decided to approach her to clear things up.
“Thanks again so much for coming!” she gushed. “It was so good of you to come, especially at this stage in the term when you must be so tired with your pregnancy and everything!”
I decided to be blunt.
“Mrs X, I’m not pregnant.”
“Yes you are!”
Not the response I was expecting…
“No, no I’m really not!”
“Not unless there’s something I don’t know about!” chimed in not-yet-hubby.
It transpired that my ‘gluten baby’ belly, combined with me mentioning in the staffroom that the house we were in the process of purchasing was in the ideal location due to it’s proximity to the hospital (I meant for my polycycstic kidney disease; she thought for delivering the human I was growing!) had led her to believe that I was pregnant.
The poor woman was absolutely mortified and close to tears; I think she was more embarrassed than I was in the end!
It’s ok Mrs X, if you’re reading this, I forgive you xx
Have you ever been mistaken for being pregnant? Come on, I’ve told you about my mortifying experiences; tell me one of yours in the comments!